


a child's laughter lights the dimmest night

by Jennalaia



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, jk we all know therion is too emotionally scarred to ever make the first move, perhaps the beginning of a beautiful relationship?, uhhh spoilers for alfyn's ch 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:24:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennalaia/pseuds/Jennalaia
Summary: They've beaten Vanessa and turned her in, so there shouldn't be anything left bothering Alfyn, right? And even if there is, nobody should notice it... right?





	a child's laughter lights the dimmest night

**Author's Note:**

> holy shit it has been FOREVER since I wrote fanfic so please bear with me if it's bad

Therion observed the way Alfyn moved at dinner. It was in the little things; how he gripped his tankard just tight enough that his knuckles whitened, how his laughter seemed just a little too shrill, the split-second moments when the sparkle faded from his grin and the laughter disappeared from his eyes.

It looked like he wasn't the only one. Cyrus, he noticed, studied Alfyn with narrowed eyes and a pursed lip. H'aanit watched out of the corner of her eye, the concern clear in her frown. The others hadn't seen it; Ophilia was too sheltered to take note in the little things, Tressa was too green of a merchant to pick up such subtle body language, Olberic wasn't paying enough attention, and Primrose... well, Primrose probably had noticed, but if she did, she didn't show it. Primrose wasn't one to give away what she knew.

It didn't take long for dinner to wrap up. Tressa scraped mashed potatoes off her plate with her fork and pushed it into her mouth. "I'm stuffed!" she proclaimed. "We should head to the inn now, huh?"

"Indeed," Olberic rumbled. "It's best that we get a good night's rest before moving on tomorrow."

"Oof, I'm full to burstin'!" Alfyn said, a bit too cheerfully. "Guess we better head on out, yeah?" He stood up, slapping down a few leaves to pay for his portion of the meal, and started towards the door.

He would have made it, too, had Therion's boot not stuck out suddenly in his path. Alfyn's foot caught, and he hit the ground with a spectacular _SMASH._

"Whoops," Therion said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

"Ow," Alfyn groaned.

H'aanit and Therion's gazes met, and understanding flickered in H'aanit's eyes. "We shalt press onwarde without thee," she said, in her stilted speech, and stood up. "Doth returne to the inn forthwith." H'aanit managed to usher the other five out towards their rooms, leaving Alfyn and Therion alone.

Alfyn got to his feet and rubbed his head, looking cross. "Why'd ya do that?" he complained. "I'm gonna have a bruise the size of a plum in the morning cause'a you."

"Shut up and sit down."

Alfyn blinked. It wasn't that it was odd that Therion would be curt and short with someone--it was that it was being directed at him that seemed strange. Therion ordinarily avoided him, simply because their personalities clashed so starkly. Therion lived in the shadows, while Alfyn basked in the light. They were as different as night and day, and for that reason Therion usually lingered near members of the group that weren't quite so... reminiscent of puppies and rays of sunshine.

Regardless of the oddness of the situation, Alfyn sat. Therion didn't speak right away. Instead, he stared into the candle sitting at the center of the table, slowly melting into its brass holder. The air grew thick with silence, silence that seemed impossible to break, or at least that was how it seemed to Alfyn.

Just when Alfyn was certain Therion had turned into a statue, the thief spoke.

"You're a pretty shitty actor."

"Eh?" Alfyn blinked. "I'm not acting, what do you mea--"

"Stop lying." Therion shifted in his seat, single visible eye drilling into Alfyn. "You can pretend all you want, but that Vanessa woman shook you up."

"I..." Alfyn began, and then he sighed and slumped back in his chair. "Yeah," he admitted. "Yer on the money, Ther."

"Don't call me that."

"Whatever ya say, Ther." Alfyn noted the way Therion's eye narrowed slightly in annoyance and grinned a bit. The grin quickly faded, though, as he recalled the events earlier that day. "That woman... I can't help but wonder... what if I run into someone like that again? Someone that helps people for profit, not for health?" He stared hard down at the table. "That girl, Flynn? She almost died today. We were lucky t'get to her in time. Vanessa almost killed her and she wouldn't have cared."

"That's life," Therion said flatly. "People use other people. If they aren't useful, you throw them away."

"Izzat what happened 'tween you and that Darius feller?" Therion looked up sharply, and Alfyn held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "Y'mentioned the name in yer sleep is all. Sorry, didn't mean t'pry."

Therion glared, but he did settle back in his seat a bit. "What happened between me and Darius doesn't have to do with this," he said curtly. "Watching you act like everything is fine after that is annoying. Stop it."

Alfyn stared at Therion. "Are... are you trying to comfort me?"

"Shut up."

"Because you aren't very good at it, y'know."

"I said shut up."

Alfyn chuckled. "I getcha, I getcha. Yer pretty outta practice with people, huh?"

Therion crossed his arms. "Out of practice implies I was in practice at one point."

"So yer just... naturally like that?" Alfyn cocked his head. "I mean, I always kinda guessed, since you don't really try t'hang with the rest of the group. Well, unless ya count Prim. Is she your cuppa tea? Because I can set you--"

"Stop talking." Therion put up a hand.

"Eh? Did I say somethin' strange?"

"Yes. It started with your voice and continued from there." Therion put his hand down. "As annoying as it is to listen to you talk, just tell me what you think about Vanessa."

Alfyn frowned. "Well... she certainly isn't apothecary material, and I wouldn't be surprised if she got her mixtures confiscated. Really, the people that she conned--"

"Stop." Therion looked annoyed.

"But you just told me to start talkin'," Alfyn pointed out.

"I don't care about the townsfolk," Therion said. "I don't even care about Vanessa. I want to know how you feel after all this."

Alfyn paused. "Are you... concerned for my emotional well being?" he asked.

"I thought I established we weren't acknowledging that," Therion replied.

"But... you are."

"I said we weren't acknowledging it."

"But by saying you don't acknowledge it you're actually acknowledgi--"

"Just shut up and talk about your feelings, you country bumpkin."

Alfyn laughed a bit. "Alright," he conceded. "I feel... well, upset."

"No shit," Therion muttered under his  breath.

"I mean," Alfyn continued, "I always thought apothecaries healed people for the sake of their smiles, not for a profit. It just seems... cold, to me."

"The world's a cold place."

"Not to me," Alfyn said. "To me it's always been warm, and full of life and light. People are willin' to help other people outta the goodness of their heart, not for a tree of leaves." He frowned at the table. "Knowing someone was willing to take advantage of people's sickness... she doesn't deserve to call herself an apothecary."

Therion said nothing. His single visible eye flickered over the whole of Alfyn; his raised shoulders, his clenched fists, his hunched-in posture. Everything about him read of discontent, of anger, of fury bottled in a country bumpkin-shaped package.

Abruptly, the thief stood up and threw a few leaves on the table. "Come with me," he said.

"Eh?" Alfyn said. "Where are we goi--"

"Has anyone told you you talk too much?"

"Erm, no, but--"

"You talk too much. Shut up and follow me."

A significantly quieter Alfyn followed Therion out of the tavern and into the evening. Goldshore was a lovely place, especially at night; Alfyn couldn't help but marvel at the way the water reflected the stars and the moon, and how the waves lapped gently at the shore. Despite the late hour, the town still buzzed with activity. The tinkling of children's laughter carried through the air as they chased after fireflies or kept up with their parents in the tangled crowds.

Therion led Alfyn towards the south end of town, near the entrance, and down to the small beach. "Take a look," he said, pointing down by the shoreline. Alfyn followed Therion's finger and saw two small figures splashing in the water as it rolled in and out. With a start, Alfyn realized it was Ellen and Flynn, laughing and playing. As he watched, Ellen looked down and picked up a seashell that had washed in with the tide. She stuffed it in her bag and said something to Flynn, who laughed.

"You did that," Therion said. "You healed that girl so she could laugh with her sister again. You brought the person that hurt her to justice. You saved these people from having to choose between their livelihoods and their loved ones." He glanced over at Alfyn. "You did this town a favor, so stop beating yourself up over someone you already defeated."

Alfyn looked curiously at Therion. "You... really are worried for me, huh," he said.

Therion looked away, and Alfyn was sure there was a touch of color filling his cheeks. "Don't be stupid," he grumbled. "If you keep moping like that you'll worry people that actually care about you. Like Ophilia."

"Ophilia cares about all'a us, she doesn't count," Alfyn chuckled.

"Then Olberic. You'll worry him."

"Olberic's always worried about us youngsters." Alfyn clapped Therion on the back, a gesture that made the thief jerk in surprise. "But I get yer point. I'm the medicine man, so I gotta make sure everyone's in tip-top shape. And I can't do that if I ain't in tip-top shape myself. Izzat it?"

"You're sharper than you look." Therion stared at the stars. "Just do yourself a favor and get over it already."

"Alright, alright, I'll do my best." Alfyn gave Therion a cheeky grin. "Thanks, Ther."

"Don't call me that." Therion drew his cloak closer to himself and turned in the direction of the inn. "We should go back."

"Yeah," Alfyn said, "we should." 

* * *

Cyrus looked up as the two men entered the inn room, still reading by candlelight. "I say," he said, "what on earth kept the two of you so long?"

"Couldn't you tell, Cyrus?" Therion said, sarcasm drenching every word. "We're planning to elope."

"Elope!?" Alfyn and Cyrus spluttered at the same time.

"But don't you want children?" Cyrus cried.

"You didn't say nothin' about that, Ther!" Alfyn stammered.

A dark, hulking shape at the back of the room moved, and Alfyn and Cyrus both received a pillow to the face with a soft _poff._ "Clearly," Olberic rumbled, for the large shape was he, "young Therion meant it in jest. Saying one thing whilst meaning the opposite is a trend among young people, I hear."

"Yes, spot on, Olberic, ten out of ten," Therion replied, sitting down on the bed and finally removing his ratty old cape.

"I think you are doing it again, Therion," Olberic grumped.

"Astute observation as always." Therion stretched out on the bed. "I'm going to sleep. Albright, put out that damn candle. It's late."

"Ah? Y-yes, of course," Cyrus said, sliding a feather between the pages he was on and placing the book on the nightstand. He leaned over to the candle and blew it out, and darkness settled on the room like a thick blanket.

"Hey, Ther?" Alfyn whispered.

Therion grunted in reply. "I told you not to call me that."

"Thanks."

"...You're welcome." Therion's voice came softly, but unmistakably. Alfyn smiled.

And nothing more was said.


End file.
